


There Goes The Fear

by MysticalMaker



Category: Manic Street Preachers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21716446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticalMaker/pseuds/MysticalMaker
Summary: James helps Richey get out of his white skin tight jeans.
Relationships: James Dean Bradfield/Richey Edwards
Kudos: 11





	There Goes The Fear

**Author's Note:**

> a much needed fic of them two, a rough draft

"Close your brown eyes  
And lay down next to me  
Close your eyes, lay down  
'Cause there goes the fear  
Let it go"  
…  
There is a connection between the poet/lyricist and the singer/musician. An unspeakable bond. The way the poet entrusted his most precious works to the board shoulders of the artisan. James needed to comprehend the work's meaning, to understand everything he's singing by Intempertating Richey's words and expressing Richey's emotions and his dire need of release. 

James is ruthless on stage. His voice raspy and coaxed in venom. James is Richey’s voice, shouting out the bitter words, Richey’s internal torment and pain, out into the void. He channels his violence into his performance, shown in the way he launches into songs. His fingers drilling against the neck of the guitar, the flexing of his fingers. 

With his twinkling eyes and mischievous grin, James slicked back his hair with one hand. He possessed high intelligence and high aggression, however never knowing his full strength. Usually after a gig, James liked inviting members of the audience back into the dressing room for a quick fuck, getting the release he desperately needed from the night's heated performance. It was just something he did. No strings attached. He sometimes got bored of pleasuring women, eventually admitting to himself that they're all one in the same. Sometimes when his curiosity got the better of him, stimulated by pure adrenaline, James would wonder what's it like being fucked by a man. The thought of it extriliated him. 

For Richey, the time spent after a gig is the only time he actually relaxes, with the satisfaction of his words yelled out into oblivion. However, it only lasts for a short period of time before Richey becomes tormented, enclosed in a state of unnatural obsession. It is not until he manages to drink while writing down and getting the haunting, taunting words out that he manages to relax and lull himself to sleep, resting in the company of his bottle of vodka, his one love and comfort. 

However after tonight's gig, Richey was laid out on the bed, his chest lightly rising and falling with his deep relaxed breaths. A cigarette hanging from his lips. He has attempted to kick off his tight jeans, the button open and the zipper down, however they were bunched up around his knees. James was sitting in a black leather chair, quiet and slightly exhausted from the evening’s gig. However, he gradually got up and helped Richey out of his skin tight jeans.

He felt that with Richey he had to be delicate with him, as he possesses such feminine features and a soft voice thick with his Welsh accent. For years, he was always intimidated by Richey as he was slightly older and had a powerful essence of “cool” about him.  
He leaned on top of Richey, his hands grabbing hold of fistfuls of white denim as James began to try and peel Richey out of the jeans. James’s began to struggle, he had to really bend down to pull at the fabric using the waistband of the jeans. His hot breath on Richey’s exposed pale thighs. Richey gasped.

James looked up.The scruff of James’s jaw brushing against his sensitive skin of his thighs and Richey moaned, trying to adjust his legs that were still caught in the cuff of his white jeans. James continued by slowly kissing the inner of Richey's thigh, leaving a trail of wet kisses. Richey bent his knees and James moved between his legs, gently kissing the sensitive fold under his knees. James then grabbed the jeans that were caught up in his lower legs and pulled, the tight fabric coming undone as they seductively slid down Richey's legs. He then kneel at the end of the bed, carefully unhooking the jeans from the curve of the ankles. Richey's legs were now fully exposed, free from the constraints of his white skinny jeans. 

James hesitated. In front of him, Richey was laid out on the white sheets. His dark hair tousled against the white soft fabric of the pillowcase. His eyes were outlined in delicate black eyeliner which shaped his brown doe-like eyes. His red blouse was slightly unbuttoned at the curve of his neck and brushed the tops of his white thighs. Oh god, he was beautiful. 

Like a freshly picked rose, his delicate red petals were in bloom, but were loose and will in turn wither and die. Savour all beauty before it fades. 

James pulled the light bed sheet over him, covering Richey's legs. He then pulled off his own jacket and set it aside. He gently knelt beside Richey on the bed and brushed the strands of his hair as Richey closed his eyes. A light breath escaping from his lips. James then laid down beside him, snuggling up to Richey for the night.


End file.
